


An Acceptable Form of Sentimentality

by attentat



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: M/M, Mild BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-16
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:31:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attentat/pseuds/attentat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was always a special pleasure to get Holmes's furious sensory barrage to stop, to allow him to focus on the next touch, the next kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Acceptable Form of Sentimentality

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for sherlockkink, over at livejournal.

Watson was used to following Holmes. It wasn't a position he resented; indeed, he deeply admired his old friend and had an unshakeable faith in his deductive abilities. He was willing to listen to commands he did not fully understand the reasoning for, trusting that it would be revealed in the end. The response was almost instinctive, at this point, with Holmes's tone of voice tapping into some latent military training and making his body respond before his mind fully engaged. 

This made it essential that Holmes be gagged as well as tied up, at least in the beginning, at least when he wasn't far enough gone and still had the ability to speak. Watson relished his ability to do this, to be allowed such liberties with a man he had once mistaken as cold. 

No one would think the man in front of him was restrained at this moment, except in the most literal sense. His arms were stretched, tied to the headboard, and the strong muscles in his legs were visibly trembling. Holmes's pale skin was flushed down to his navel, and Watson could see sweat beading up. The handkerchief that was in his mouth was damp and his hair was curling slightly. He was all wetness and heat, and Watson leaned down and tasted him, running his tongue up the center of his chest, on the bone, and feeling a shudder follow the movement.

"Will you stay silent for me, if I remove it?" he asked, his lips moving against Holmes's nipple, his hand reaching up to rest against the other man's face, feeling the movement of the nod. He undid the knot in the cloth and threw it to the side, moving up to kiss him. Watson could almost taste Holmes biting back gasps and cries and the thought made him moan, as if taking pride in something that he was allowed to do while Holmes was not. He moved downward, to bite at Holmes's neck, sucking blood to the surface and leaving a glaring mark. 

"With the collars you wear, everyone will be able to see these," Watson said, his hand slipping down to touch Holmes's cock. He didn't stroke it nearly enough, just ghostly touches and exploratory movements, Holmes jerking reflexively. 

Watson glanced up and he was pleased to see that Holmes's eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, unfocused and unseeing. It was always a special pleasure to get Holmes's furious sensory barrage to stop, to allow him to focus on the next touch, the next kiss -- it made Holmes's face relax, the ever present lines of tension fade away and slip into this beautiful slackness. Watson slipped lower, releasing Holmes's cock and slipping his fingers into Holmes, checking to make sure he was still sufficiently slick. He was loose and wet with him, and Watson scissored his fingers slowly, just to see him squirm. It felt dirty and good to do this again, so soon after the last time, with Holmes's body still hard from the first time. Watson shifted position, his hand gripping hard around the base of Holmes's cock to prevent from coming. He entered, and his eyes slipped closed -- it was perfect, beyond beautiful, and any pretense he had at writing fled, for there were no words for the panting sounds of Holmes's breath, for the way his entire body undulated at the entrance. 

And then Watson released Holmes's cock and started to move. Slowly, at first, and Holmes usually would be telling him to go faster, usually would be curling a hand around his own cock and throwing his head back. Today, though, Holmes wasn't even capable of speech anymore, his face red and wet and staring right at Watson, uncomprehending. It was an entirely personal bliss, but Watson did not begrudge him this. 

It wasn't long, just a few more steady strokes, and Holmes came untouched. His back arched, and the smallest hint of a sound escaped his lips, which Watson leaned down and caught between his own. The warmth of Holmes's release rubbed against his belly, and he felt Holmes soften underneath him, as he kissed largely unresponsive lips. Watson moved faster, hips jerking involuntarily as he placed kisses anywhere he could reach, Holmes's eyes fluttering. When Watson came, he did his best not to collapse, his body feeling like it was going to shake apart under all these sensations. He pulled out, doing his best to be careful, and only allowed himself a few moments of rest before undoing Holmes's restraints. 

Holmes was boneless, collapsed, and he curled easily up against Watson. Watson could trace full awareness seeping back into his skin, and it was almost sad to see such relaxation fall away. But Holmes was smiling, his lips curled up in a secret grin, and he didn't scold Watson for sentimentality when Watson kissed the reddened lines around his wrists.


End file.
